You left without saying good-bye. The one thing you promised you would do when you left…and you didn’t. By this point, I feel like I should be devastated…I should be so far broken and beneath the surface that the thought of rebuilding myself and climbing out isn’t an option. My God, you almost killed me, rhetorically speaking. Our whole shit show of a relationship almost killed me. My hopefulness for love and life in general, was almost lost again. Almost. Our last conversation was bad, but I didn’t know that’d be the last one. You put so much of the guilt you carried on me, like it was my fault…like I was to blame for the choices we made.
But it’s ok. I can’t speak ill of you. I won’t ever. I won’t ever say a negative thing about you. It was still real…every word we spoke to each other, every kiss and every intimate moment. Every sleepless night, whether it was spent beneath the sheets or just laughing about any and everything…it was real. But you’re not the one for me, and I’m clearly not the one for you. I told you this would either be a lesson or a blessing. But it was both.